This Magic Moment

by Susan Squires

  Anxiety ramped up in his belly. Nothing has changed, he told himself. You stay alive until the Pentacle forms. Then you burn this hellish place down and Morgan with it.

  The elevator doors opened onto the hangar area, but it had been transformed. No wonder they couldn’t land the helicopter here on the way back from The Breakers. Gone were the crates and the metal drums. No fork lifts, no hoists or tools. Now it was a vast, empty room, lighted only by candles and oil lamps placed around the perimeter and by the soft glow of the square pedestals that held the three Talismans. The Cup, the Sword, and the Wand were no longer covered by glass, but sat on their bases in elaborate holders. Their jewels gleamed and seemed to vibrate with power. They stood on a raised dais behind a huge rock laid flat on two others to form a table. The stone was rough-hewn like he imagined the slabs of Stonehenge would be from viewing woodcuts of the stone circle. Rocks like the ones in the desert around the compound were piled at one end, big to small, to form steps. At the four corners were iron shackles fastened into the rock somehow. They were for him, of course. The raven perched next to the Talismans on what looked like a twisted tree branch that had been gilded.

  In the shadows beyond that ominous altar, members of the Clan, clad in black robes with hoods, swayed, chanting to eerie music that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. It was very different from the music the monks had played at the monastery: more dissonant, haunting. The place smelled of smoke from the candles and burning lamps, and underneath, oil and gasoline, a reminder of its former incarnation.

  Thomas hadn’t realized there were so many in the Clan. Thirty perhaps? And now he realized there were others, soldiers it looked like, at the outer perimeter. They carried weapons. How many? He didn’t know. But he would kill them all tonight with his fire if he could. For the greater good. A voice inside his head said that every monster rationalized his monstrous acts by saying that. He pushed the voice down. If he were a monster, so be it. He only hoped the Clan couldn’t stop him.

  He stood silent, waiting. Duncan and Jason put on robes. Duncan melted into the anonymous crowd of chanters. A door at the far end of the hangar opened and Morgan appeared with the robed figure of the spectral Hardwick by her side, the only one whose hood was pushed back on her shoulders. Her hair was…was it painted gold? Gleaming metallic curls gathered at her crown and coiled down her neck. The fact that it matched her golden eyes was startling. Her lips were painted with gold as well. She looked alien, like a Greek goddess come to earth. Under her white cloak she wore no clothing, just like him. He could see the swell of her breasts in the gap of her cape and the gilded triangle at the apex of her thighs. She looked in the prime of her life, her skin taut, her golden eyes clear. They glittered now in anticipation. She strode across to them, a fierce, self-satisfied smile growing. At least he thought it was a smile.

  “My boy,” she whispered, as one hand caressed his temple, his cheek and jaw. Her nails were gilded and had been sharpened into points. “Tonight you fulfill your purpose. You find your Destiny in me.”

  Thomas examined her face, now so close to his. “Yes,” he whispered in return, though he knew his Destiny was Tammy and he had been born to save her.

  “Jason, position him.” She turned to the altar. Jason came up and took Thomas’s arm, jerking him ahead roughly. Good. That would demonstrate his loyalty to Morgan. Thomas didn’t know how Jason could help him, or if he would. Cloaking wasn’t useful in this situation. But at least there was someone on his side. Maybe. When it mattered, would Jason fight for Morgan as he had always done, just to avoid her wrath?

  When they got to the altar, Morgan turned and untied the cord to his robe at his neck. It fell to the floor in a pool of fabric, leaving him naked before everyone in the room. Her gloating smile oozed satisfaction. She ran her hand down his neck, over his chest, giving him goose pimples in the cool hangar air. He suppressed a shudder. It was going to get much worse than just a caress—and in front of perhaps fifty people. He couldn’t think about that. He had to think about Tammy, just as he had in the showers today.

  “Delectable. You turned out better than I could have hoped when I saw you as a scrawny boy of nine. And tonight you will give me what I want more than anything else in the world.”

  “Am I your Destiny?” She wasn’t his. But it was good to keep her talking. She won’t kill me until the Pentacle forms. The longer she talks, the less time for torture and sex.

  “Ah, someone’s been telling you about the genes.” Her eyes devoured his body as her gaze roved lower. “Doesn’t make any difference. No, dear boy, I may be your Destiny, but you are not mine. No one enthralls me as mates are enthralled. I am unique. In all the descendants of magic I have known over my long life, I have never found another who can raise the dead.” She tore her eyes away from his body and gazed upward into the darkness of the hangar. “I can raise anyone. I can make them virtually immortal.” She paused. He felt pain and rage growing inside her, ready to explode. “Except myself. You can’t raise yourself from the dead.” Her gaze jerked back down to his face, drilling into him, seeing everything or nothing. “What good to have power and riches when even long life still ends? I do not accept death,” she hissed with a spray of spittle. “And that ‘immortal through your progeny’ bullshit everyone spews is only empty consolation for those who can’t have the real thing. The fates have denied me even that.” She took a breath, coming to herself. She took a step back. “I deserve to be immortal. Me, and me alone.”

  “The power of the Pentacle can give that to you?” His voice was almost even.

  The smile turned sly. “There is another who must be called to complete the task, I’m afraid. But don’t worry, you will have your role.”

  “How? How will I help you?” Best she think he didn’t know. How easily lying came when you knew your purpose.

  She chuckled. It was a frightening laugh. “Ah. You’d like to know, would you? Perhaps you want immortality for yourself. But only I know the sacred words. I will use the power of the Talismans and you, dear boy. My words will direct the power to me alone and open the door to the one who can give me what I crave.”

  She was so sure of herself. But perhaps he could surprise her tonight.

  “Up on the altar,” Hardwick barked. His gaunt features and the hooded cloak made him look like a creature painted by Hieronymus Bosch. Thomas climbed up on the rock and laid his limbs near the shackles.

  “You don’t need to chain me,” he said to Morgan. She didn’t either. He’d lie here and let her do her worst right up until the climactic moment.

  “Oh, this might get a little…rigorous,” she said, drawing her sharpened nail over his nipple, just enough to draw blood. “Besides, I enjoy seeing my consort restrained.” Her hand passed over his belly. Jason and Hardwick moved around the altar. Shackles clanked shut.

  When he was chained, Morgan lifted her left hand from where it hung in the folds of her robe. It held a dagger, its blade perhaps ten inches, made of what looked like gold. Its hilt was encrusted with diamonds. He sucked in a breath. He willed her not to just slit his throat.

  “How long?” she barked.

  “Forty minutes,” Hardwick said calmly.

  “Oh, we can have a good time in forty minutes, can’t we, Thomas?”

  He had forty minutes before she killed him. “I’ll do my best,” he said. That was true. How would he know when to start his fire? He had a feeling the coming minutes were likely to seem longer to him than they were.

  He felt Tammy draw closer. Keep calm.

  The chanting changed tone as Morgan let her robe pool on the steps, leaving her naked. Her nipples and her toenails were gilded like her fingernails. Morgan was chanting too, her eyes burning with intent. She knelt with one knee on each side of his thighs. Staring him in the eyes, she grasped his penis in one hand and began to pull on it. He had to get it hard or she might be so angry she’d kill him too soon. The knife glinted in the glow of the Talismans. He tried to think of
Tammy, but that only brought out his fear for her. Not conducive to maintaining an erection. He tried to push his fear down, to think of his night in the barn with the woman he loved. They had shared souls that night, and touching each other’s bodies had been a revelation of spiritual sensation. Tammy’s body was perfect, her breasts overflowing his hands, begging to be squeezed and suckled. And she had known just what to do to drive him wild with needing her. Not this demanding jerking of his penis, but sensual touching of her lips to his, or to his neck or chest or nipples as she gently coaxed his passion. Gentle right up until it wasn’t gentle at all, their mutual need pushing them toward ecstasy.

  His breath came faster. Morgan’s touch repulsed him, but as she chanted and pulled at his penis, that errant member decided to help him. It got hard in her hands. Thank goodness for the drug they had given him.

  Morgan leaned over him, her breasts brushing his chest as she chanted, her breath on his face hot. He strained against his bonds, which brought a flash of satisfaction to her expression. Don’t get angry with her, he admonished himself. He had to keep the fire from erupting before its appointed time. Then she sat up and raised the knife for all to see. Calm. She’s going to cut me. I knew that. I can do this. Bringing it down, she made a cut across his left pectoral. He hissed a breath at the sudden pain. The fires banked inside him flickered and wanted to rise, but he pushed them down. Her working of his penis was relentless. He realized then that pain and arousal could co-exist and that was comforting because he needed the arousal to keep her interested, and there was likely to be a lot of pain.

  Hardwick handed her the Cup. She raised the knife high again, drops of his blood dripping from it into the Cup, which she handed back to Hardwick.

  The chanting ramped up a notch in volume.

  *

  Tammy struggled up onto the flat area at the top of the canyon, panting. It would be faster going now. There was no doubt about their destination. A helicopter sat across the plateau, painted in camouflage. Of course. The hangar was serving another purpose now. She glanced to the sky. The comet was so close to its appointed rendezvous! How long did they have? Luc was leading—it was he who called a halt behind a Palo Verde tree and a couple of creosote bushes. Mom and the others were right behind her. She hurried over to Luc. This was no time to stop. “Luc, what’s wrong? We have to go.”

  Luc nodded behind her. Tammy turned to see Dev and Lan shepherding Jane up the last bit of the climb. Jane would need to rest. Tammy shouldn’t begrudge her that. But the urgency in Tammy’s core was making her crazy. She had to get Thomas before they sacrificed him. That wouldn’t happen until the Pentacle formed, would it? Did they realize he wasn’t a virgin? Would that matter?

  She looked around, frantic. Then she stilled. She might be able to know exactly how Thomas was, good or bad. She felt for Edgar the raven, and the desert landscape around her disappeared.

  It was replaced by the hangar: the blue purple of ultraviolet highlighting the glowing pedestals that held the Talismans, the gleam of bare skin. Chanting and weird, distant music filled the air. It took her several moments to realize what she was seeing. Thomas was chained to the stone that was like one of those sacrificial altars, and Morgan sat astride him. She was jerking at his cock with one hand. Thomas had dark rivulets trickling down his sides, his thighs, his biceps. The light glinted off a dagger Morgan held high.

  “No!” Tammy breathed. The dagger descended, but it was only to make another cut across Thomas’s belly. He arched and moaned.

  With a grunt, she wrested herself from the scene. Luc had her by the shoulders. “Tammy, what have you seen?”

  “We have to get there quick. She’s torturing Thomas,” she hissed, her eyes filling.

  Maggie hurried over. Luc glanced to the sky. “She will not kill him yet.”

  “I…I think she’s going to have sex with him.”

  “She will not do that either until the moment of the Pentacle,” he said, shaking her a little. Or maybe she was shaking. “She thinks he is still the virgin, and she will take his blood to draw the power before she destroys what she believes is his virgin state. Me, I think she will consummate with him at the moment she takes the power.”

  “How…how do you know that?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Is that not how such things always work in legend?” he asked, looking around. Jane and her two attendants were just coming up over the rise.

  “Sure it is,” Maggie soothed as she stroked Tammy’s back. But she looked worried.

  “We just have to get there,” Mom agreed. “I can heal him, honey.”

  If they got there in time. Mom couldn’t heal a dead man.

  Jane gave a grunt and bent over, sagging against Lan.

  God, no. “Jane, are you…?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Been having them for the last little bit.”

  Worried glances shot around the circle.

  “That’s it,” Dev said firmly. “Jane, you have to stay here.”

  “Greta, you stay with Jane,” Luc ordered, already turning to leave.

  “Don’t you dare,” Jane said. “We all have to be there, don’t we, Brina?”

  Mom was thinking hard. She was torn, obviously.

  “Besides, I’m not having a baby right this minute, we need all of us, and I’m not staying out here in this desert alone.”

  “Jane is quite powerful,” Mom fretted.

  Luc threw up his hands. “I am related to insane people,” he chuffed. “All right. She is little. I will carry her at least to the doorway. But then I must be free to fight,” he added darkly. “And we must wait for Kemble to release the door locks”

  “I’m not sure Thomas can last that long,” Tammy pleaded.

  “Have you forgotten?” Jane whispered. “Thomas is not unprotected. He has his fire. He’s just waiting for the right moment to unleash it.”

  “I saw fire in my first visions,” Drew whispered.

  “Then we have to be there when he does. We’re moving,” she said into her com. “Greta, you use your lasers to open the door.”

  “Wait,” Kemble commanded. “You need the Cloak raised to find the door unless I can pop the lock by disabling their security systems and you can use the sound to locate the door.”

  “I’ve got to do something,” Tammy shot back.

  “Tamsen Tremaine, we have to do this together or we lose the element of surprise.” There was steel in his voice.

  Tammy looked to Mom, who nodded. “Got to wait, baby.”

  But if waiting didn’t kill her, it might kill Thomas. “Okay,” she gritted out to Kemble. “But get that tank here fast, and show me that door.”

  *

  Michael heard Tammy’s announcement in his ear. Despite what Tris had said, the tank wasn’t fast. Twenty miles an hour, maybe a little more. But they were close. Through the gun’s sight, Michael saw what looked like an empty canyon in the darkness. But his map said Morgan’s lair was here. “Compound ahead,” he called over the noisy engine.

  “We are in position,” Marrec said into Michael’s ear. “Behind a rock formation. Signal when the security is down. Tammy has located Thomas is at the top of the building.”

  “Check,” Senior said. “Might take us a shell or two to get the range of the door.”

  “I’ll fire long to be sure and hit something,” Michael called. “Once we start, we’ll have their attention.”

  “Range, 200 yards,” Senior called. “Straight ahead. Forty degrees.”

  Michael raised the big gun.

  “Let her rip,” Senior called.

  Michael flipped the fire switch and stepped on the pedal. The tank kicked with the explosion of the shell. It was eerie seeing the shell disappear behind the Cloak that hid the compound, but you couldn’t Cloak sound and the explosion was deafening.

  The gun kicked out the shell. Kemble slammed another one home and tapped Michael’s shoulder.

  “Keep at it,” Senior yelled. “Tris, get us in
closer.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ‡

  Thomas was only partly sensible. Morgan rocked on his body as she brought herself to orgasm against his cock again and again, careful not to allow him to fully penetrate her. He didn’t know how many times she had cut him, but the Cup near his head was full and overflowing, and the slab beneath him was slippery with his blood. He had to hold out. The glow of the Talisman cases behind them and the smoky air from the torches made his senses swim. The chanting and the eerie music filled the echoing space. Was it time to start his fire? He hoped he had the strength to summon it. Jason and Duncan now stood by the elevator together, hooded. Jason was be positioned to escape if Thomas prevailed.

  If he concentrated, he could feel Tammy. “Don’t come closer,” he muttered. Any closer and they might find her. What was she doing here? Morgan screamed and shuddered in orgasm above him and the rocking stopped for a moment. She drooped, then straightened.

  “Open the doors,” she shouted.

  Above him, the hangar’s ceiling creaked, then parted. The chanting became more urgent, the music louder. Black sky appeared and there, directly overhead, was the comet, and smaller around it the four stars of Ursus Major. It had passed through the bowl or body of the bear and was moments away from making a perfect Pentangle. Was he too late?

  The slab beneath him jolted. At his head, the Cup sloshed more blood onto the slab. He thought for a moment that Morgan had stabbed him. The chanting faltered and stopped.

  “What was that?” Morgan screamed. She whipped her head around, her chest still heaving. “Tremaines,” she hissed.

  No! Were they attacking? They’d be killed and Tammy must be with them.

  He turned his head, searching for Jason in the flickering shadows. Jason nodded at him in encouragement. He was saying it was time.